


A God's choice

by yulin



Series: Sekhmet [8]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Colonies, Future Gladiators AU, Gods, M/M, burnt people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 15:30:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9663638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yulin/pseuds/yulin
Summary: “I know that this is different,” he hissed. “And do you know why? Because this-“ Leo hit Cris' waist with the palm of his hand. “This, at least, was some kind of risk thatIdecided to take.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MessiFangirl (hpdm4ever)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpdm4ever/gifts).



> So... I am telling you that I decided to engage myself with a crazy writing game. So, I basically need to post a story a week and this series in particular is stuck in my brain right now, and it looks like I am posting about that :)  
> I am filling prompts, though. I am going to pick different points on the timeline. I hope everything'll make a sense in any case. Eventually.
> 
> Thank you very much to Messifangirl because she is helping me a lot, editing on demand, at the very last minute. I love you, girl *__*

It wasn’t really going as Cris had planned. 

It should have been a one-time thing. But then, it happened again in the training room one week later. And then again. And again.

They were in the closet used to store the battle bo-staffs. In a fucking closet. It was dusty and only had dim lighting, coming from the cracks on the door and the jambs. There wasn’t even enough space for Cris to completely stretch out his long legs. He was sitting on the floor: his back laid against a wall, and his feet planted on the opposite one, but he still had to bend his knees little. On his lap, there was Messi… Leo.

Well, at least that was one positive thing about the poky space, because Cris had to admit that the feeling of Leo’s soft body on his legs was really a good one. 

But still.

“Can you remind me why we’re not in my bed?”

“You know why,” Leo replied hoarsely. He was still panting from their activities, the red on his skin slowly fading. 

“Breathe!” Cris chuckled before blowing some fresh air at Leo’s face.

Leo lowered his head and giggled while some red reappeared on his cheeks. Cris was still amazed by the realisation that, in fact, Messi was shy. It was cute. And that was a thought on which he shouldn’t indulge too much, Cris silently scolded himself. 

“I am telling you. We should try a bed. I want to show you all a sort of good things with more space.”

“Oh, I am sure I would appreciate it. But I can’t risk someone seeing me in your zone of the billet.” Leo and Cris lived in the same zone of the planet, both being of the same species. But humans separated themselves according to their planet of origin. A particular strong separation was between people from Earth—the planet of origin of all the humans—and people from other planets, originally colonies from Earth. 

For centuries, Earth had been the richer planet, sending only the rejected from the societies to the colonies to exploit them. Even with their independence war, colonies reached autonomy, yet still did not have the richness of Earth. That’s why in Sekmeth there were many more ex-colonialists as opposed to terrestrial, but the few terrestrials were usually excluded by the comradity of the other humans.

Although he came from Earth, Cris was of very humble and poor origin. Seeing no perspective in his future, he decided to become a fighter. More specifically: the best fighter. And he had never hidden his goal, not earning any sympathy from those who weren’t terrestrial warriors. 

Apart from Leo, that was—Leo who was still indulging himself by sitting on Cris’ thighs, deciding to risk staying a little longer in the closet. It was the closet of the bo-staffs, which nobody was using these days. 

But then Leo shifted, emitting a little sound of pain.

“Are you ok?”

“Yes, I just needed to free my ankle.” Looking down to check his feet, Leo gave Cris another look at his neck, revealing another tattooed whirl, visible even in the blurry light.

Cris felt the urge to follow the ink pattern with his tongue. Again. This thing was getting out of his hands. He helped Leo move instead, grabbing him by the hips. “But you will be also much more comfortable in a bed,” he insisted.

Leo bent forward, leaning on Cris’ waist. “You are so big that you are comfortable enough to me,” he muffled against his skin, giving him shudders that ran down his spine.

“I am not big,” he protested. “You are the one who is a tiny, little thing.”

“Hey, you are talking to the best warrior, do you remember?”

“I am sorry, but I am quite sure that I remember we decided that _I_ was the best, the last time we tested it.”

“I was tired! I was working out for hours!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Cris smoothed his attempts of rebellion by stroking a hand down his back. Indeed, it was hard to remember, when Leo was making an outraged face from behind his messy fringe… but he couldn’t his dimply smile. 

Okay, maybe Cristiano just had to admit that he was cute. He had to force himself to not do something incredibly stupid like kissing the top of his head. But he couldn’t stop his curiosity.

When Leo leaned again on him, closing his eyes, Cristiano asked, with a more serious tone, this time, “But, what's going to happen if they find out about us? Are you going to be kicked off of your team? I wouldn’t mind taking you in, having you join our team, you know?”

“Mmm, now you are tempting me.”

“So, why not? Haven’t you ever wondered what it could be like for us to be fighting together? We would be invincible.” Cris didn’t vocalise what was in the air: that fighting together would prevent them from having to fight against one another. They both knew that sooner or later it would happen. Because they were both too good and made so much money when they were in the arena, the organisers didn't want to risk their lives in a one on one fight. That is, until there’s crisis in the attendance, or some special event. 

It was inevitable. At a certain point, the endless question, “Who is better between Messi and Ronaldo,” would be decided in the arena.

But Leo, and especially Cristiano, didn’t want to think about that. It was much better to enjoy the rare moments that they could spend together.

Leo sighs. “Ah," he mutters. "You know that I would never abandon my people.”

“Is that it? You are making me fight tomorrow with cramps on my legs because you don’t want to delude your people?” Cristiano reached for Leo’s, tugging. “Is this your plan to make me lose?”

“Ouch!” Leo lifted in a sitting position. Although Cris’ tone was light and mocking, Leo looked down on Cris leg, with a worried expression. “Is it that bad? I am sorry, I-“

“It’s not,” Cris sighed. “But, seriously, is that all?” Cris couldn’t really frame his sudden need to know. He could tell himself that the situation was annoying him. He had never liked conspiracies and secrets: he always showed who he was. People might like him or not, but he didn’t care. But as honest as he was, Cristiano knew that that was not the only reason for asking.

Leo bit his lower lip a second before replying. “That,” he confirmed. “And then there is the flame thing.”

“Flame?”

Leo shifted a little as to find a better position. “The fire purifies.” He said as an explanation.

“Purify what?”

“The betrayal. I… People really think that I am a god. They truly believe it, okay? How deluded do you think they would be if they discovered that I cheated them?”

“You didn’t,” Cristiano protested. “You said you never asked for that.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“So, just because a person they decided is a god, decided to fuck, they are going to burn him?” Cristiano felt like he was going to vomit. Surely they couldn’t do that. It was not like someone could set a pyre and throw a man into it without being notice by the guards of Sekhmet. But even the idea that someone might want to do this only because they wanted to have sex… No, scratch it. The idea that anyone might want set a man on fire for _whatever_ reason was horrifying.

He grabbed Leo’s hips, maybe with a little too much strength. Given his fair skin there would probably be marks, but he hoped that at least Argentines were not checking their gods’ bodies to verify their purity. And it didn’t matter in any case because Cris felt the urgency to feel that Leo’s body was there, solid, alive.

“Not all of me, I think.” Leo placed his hand over his coloured tattoo. “Only my symbol of deity. And then, well, yes, they are going to ban me.”

“You _think_ they are not going to kill you?”

Leo lowered his head, timid again. Cris had to bend over to catch his eyes. “I don’t want this for you.”

“Then you should bear with uncomfortable places and time, I am afraid.” His voice was lighter and his lips curled up, but Cristiano wasn’t amused at all.

“Leo, what I am saying is that I am not sure this is worth it. I don't want to endanger you.” And Cris really didn’t know where this was coming from. When exactly he felt the urge of framing Leo’s face with one hand, caressing his cheekbone with the thumb. He had been sure that what he had wanted from Messi was just some good fucks. He had been sure that he didn’t really care about how Messi was going to live with them or deal with his people.

Yes, he _had_ promised him discretion, but that was because he hadn’t particularly wanted to be a complete asshole. But Cristiano wasn’t ready for _this_ : this sudden need to protect him, of being sure that Leo would always been as he was in his arms in that closet: safe, happy, satisfied. Full of life. He could only blame the horror of the image of a man burnt alive: the cries, the smell of a burnt flesh, the flames consuming the body erasing all the features and leaving nothing but a black stump, with a grotesque mask of screaming.

“I am a warrior!” Leo snapped, pushing away the loop of a nightmare in which Cris’ mind had been trapped. He was almost surprised to find himself surrounded by the feeble light of the dawn filtering through the door, and not by a dark night illuminated by a big, evil fire.

“I am constantly endangered, in case you haven’t noticed! Now you are worried about what my people can do to me, tomorrow what? Are you going to forbid me to fight?” Leo continued. There was no more shyness or tenderness on his face, but a frown that Cris hadn’t seen on him even during the fights. 

“You know that this is different, Leo.”

“I know that this is different,” he hissed. “And do you know why? Because this-“ Leo hit Cris’ waist with the palm of his hand. “This, at least, was some kind of risk that _I_ decided to take.”

Cris could only endure Leo’s fury. Because that was what he was facing. He realised at that moment that Leo was never dominated by rage in his fights: he had always been perfectly efficient. This time, right in front of him, there was a Leo that he had never known, and he wasn’t even sure how to deal with him. Especially when he had just tried to be kind. 

Cristiano cursed himself.

“And what about if _I_ don’t want to take this risk? What if I don’t want to risk the life of a person just to have some fun?”

“You kill in fights! And as far as I know _you_ even decided to became a fighter!”

“I kill in fair fights where the other has equally the possibility to kill me. I don’t throw harmless people into fire!”

“They won’t-“

“And as far as _I_ know,” Cris continued, “Argentinians don’t force their people to fight, either.”

“I was called a god! Do you really think that I could ever have had the freedom to refuse to enter combat?”

“Well, I was the third kid of a family that had to decide between having lunch _or_ dinner on a daily basis, so don’t come here talking shit about freedom of choice!”

That seemed to work with Leo. As his rage evaporated, he loosened up on Cris thighs, lowering his shoulders, defeated. “You are right,” he muttered. “I have no right to force you to do something that you don’t want.”

It had been a bitter victory, Cris had to admit. In fact, he wasn’t even sure about what exactly he had won. “It’s not that I don’t want you,” he said. 

Cris hesitantly ran a hand over Leo’s locks, but the other man moved away, shaking his head.

“It doesn’t matter. The outcome is the same, isn’t it?” Leo looked again, something entirely new for Cris. He was… sad. Resigned. It was heart-breaking.

“Leo…”

Leo briefly closed his eyes and it was only when he re-opened them that Cris was set back into familiarity, because Leo had regained his typical coldness and determination.

“I am going out of here first. Wait 10 minutes before you exit. Don’t follow me,” he ordered.

Cris nodded, taken aback, and then watched Leo as he silently managed to dress quickly in the poky space, and then rushed away.

Indeed. Cristiano thought that he hadn’t won anything, but rather had lost much.


End file.
